The Enigmatic and Arcane

The Enigmatic and Arcane

A Story by Christopher Zuelke

A story written with the inspiration of Yin and Yang


            Looming, they caressed the pale, steel blue sky. Colossal ebony streaks sneaked through amethyst leaves. Everything shimmered, light refracting and reflecting off the crystal foliage. Where there was intense sunlight, blessed was their cotton color. Devoid of sunlight, the infernal, obsidian soul was revealed; consequently, blended colors spanned between, some slightly and others darkly, only a few ever reaching a truly pure or proven taint of the heart. Now, she supposed, the sky did the same; mimicking, she walked a path of absolute white, as if the sun was illuminated below, tracing a path in the stars above. She dared not stray, for the stars did not move, frozen in winter solstice. Those frolicking the skies saw a man was visible up ahead, nonchalantly waltzing to an invisible beat. She twirled to him, her dress billowing a dance beside her, though never interrupting the careless steps. Hair, onyx as the night, blazoned behind her, arms pure as water, swooned around her. Eyes, a shadow of sapphire, glimmered with dusk…

As he danced to and fro, his coat of pitch spilt amongst him and deeply tanned skin drew in the eye. A startling contradiction, the shock of white atop his head ruffled against the rustling wind. His eyes, embroidered with gold, painted his face with amber. His waltz became irate, a solemn song woven with passion; not with intense frenzy, but with furious vexation. His incandescent fire me snuffing water. They collided, two dances dissipated to one, a plodding tango transformed to ballet, swung into a finish. This was the first time they actually saw each other, not through sight but through intuition. She saw who he really was: handsome and pristine, a hard outer shell to the bubbling, violet, toxic inside. He was evil, all the evil in the world personified into a tantalizing friend. She was refulgent, he viewed; too bright to look at directly, he thought. If he looked past her, though, he saw that even the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows. “You’ve won this time, my dear,” Yang cooed. “Until we meet again,” Yin threatened. These last words drifted on a breath before her blood spilt, amethyst as the nature, as he turned to waltz away.

© 2015 Christopher Zuelke

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Added on October 29, 2015
Last Updated on October 29, 2015


Christopher Zuelke
Christopher Zuelke

Stratford, WI

An aspiring singer, writer, and bookworm who loves words and loves languages even more. "A true logophile, a true singer, a truer lover of Japan, and an even truer linguistic freak." -A friend more..